Masterminds

In Bhaal's Name

When morning came, you were already bracing yourself to face your nemesis. Orin could not go unpunished, not after what she did to you.

And, oh, what a severe sentence she would face.

Those denting streets never felt more alive - with each step, the cold breeze clears your mind, and those haunting chants become louder. Auspicious whispers sip from crevices - grey cracks under your feet - they announce your return in ecstasy.

Perhaps because such canticles are sweet - intoxicatingly sweet - or invisible chains are tied to you, but your body feels like being dragged by a warm, trained hand towards its womb. Cosy, different.
The footsteps of murder lovingly guide your path to your dreams. Kill Orin.

Your feet are hauled across pungent waters until you reach a stone door. A gate to Hell, one might call it, but for you - home. Your hand caresses the stone surface gently, which causes it to shake slightly as if answering to your cursed blood.

Welcome back, child of Bhaal

Present the amulet of your forebear.

It demands eerily. You sigh...

Of course, it wouldn't be so easy to access.

There is no other way but to retrieve one of those, no matter how.

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Hours after sniffing that trail of bodies, after searching for clues of the whereabouts of this killer - that a certain hollyphant didn't do - you find yourself in the Murder Tribunal with the bag of hands.

"You cannot enter without proof." a gilded guard mandates unhinged. They won't let you in, but why else would you pick a bag of hands if not to impress them of your wickedness? So, you present the evidence. The knight nods, allowing you to face your sibling.

Upon entering that damned room, a familiar face welcomes you. Another backstabber, no less. The progenitor of the person who threw your plan out of the window.

The man smirks silently, waiting for you to reach the centre - for him to judge.

"So, the prodigal son returns. Back to his Father's loving embrace." his low voice grunts as he greets you from his opulent throne.
You walk towards the judges, ignoring those screeches from the adjacent room, facing him with as much disgust as he is letting out.

He is shrouded in crimson, the smell of blood covering him. Three Bhaalspawn accompany him- tormented spirits. Glowing eyes follow you - they search for loyalty.

Why not approach as you would? Demonstrate you are back and resisting would come with consequences?

"I've come once again to reclaim what is mine, Sarevok." you defiantly say as a terrible feeling creeps out. It is as though whatever laid dormant now claws your insides.

*chuckles*

"You are not our Lord's favourite anymore. You lost everything to my daughter," he utters condescendingly. But something sparks in his mind, a desire, "I will get rid of you and become his Chosen." he so decidedly announces with a wide smirk plastered on that taunting face.

*chuckle*

"Why would Bhaal welcome such a failure?" you mock him.

"How impertinent." he braces, unsheathing his sword as he stands up from his throne. Steps become the music of this dance. A dance that would end in bloodshed.